Allen’s Past Meets His Future in Long Beach

An hour in the life of George Allen, Cal State Long Beach football coach, begins in his wood-paneled office, where Allen keeps a TV and a VCR, circa 1990, and everything else, circa 1965-1985.

On one shelf sits a Washington Redskin helmet, alongside a Washington Redskin sculpture, just below a Washington Redskin poster. Still waiting for a shelf are old Washington Redskin and Chicago Blitz playbooks. And in another corner is a placard bearing the title “Factors For Wranglers”--a checklist for success lifted from Allen’s Arizona Wrangler days (“No. 4. Be Positive--No Matter What Happens.”)

With Allen, the future no longer is now.

The past is now.

Allen sits behind his desk wearing a black Long Beach warmup jacket and a black Long Beach baseball cap. These, apparently, are reminders.

Allen pulls out two felt-tip markers, one blue and one red. As he speaks, he occasionally jots down Xs and Os.

“What number is Eddie Lair?” Allen asks before squinting at the blackboard to find the answer. “Forty-seven. I’ve never had a defensive end wear No. 47 before. . . . We also have an outside linebacker who wears No. 8. I think the guy who gave out the numbers must’ve had a Scotch and soda.”

Allen is bemoaning his team’s lack of depth. As an example, he notes that Long Beach’s punter, Fred Morales, also returns punts. “I’ve been in this game since 1946, and I’ve never seen it, where your punter also catches punts,” he says. “I mean, if Ripley were alive today, he’d say this would be a good one for Believe It or Not.”

Allen also bemoans his team’s lack of balance. “We have to play better defense,” he says. “We have to play better special teams. We’ve got to run more. You can’t just throw it. We’re like the Cleveland Browns.”

Whether he meant the Otto Graham Cleveland Browns or the Bill Nelson Cleveland Browns, Allen didn’t say.

Allen’s mind tends to work in mysterious ways. His train of thought often travels in reverse.

The subject is playing out the schedule of what could be a losing season. Allen’s 49ers are 3-5 heading into Saturday’s game against Cal State Fullerton.

“I told the team that in 14 years of coaching, I only had one team where we went into the last game of the season and we didn’t have a chance for the division or the playoffs,” Allen says. “And in pro sports, the worst thing that can happen to you is that you’re playing out the schedule. You’re getting paid to play out the schedule.

“I only had that happen once.

“The last game of 1975.”

The subject is winning streaks. Allen starts talking about the 49ers, the other 49ers, the ones that belong to Eddie DeBartolo Jr. A typewritten letter from Eddie rests on Allen’s desk.

“The 49ers have won 14 straight,” Allen says. “In ‘67-’68, we won 14 straight with the Rams. That was the longest streak at the time. Unitas, up in Baltimore, beat us to end the streak.”

The subject is last week’s game against Fresno State, a 28-16 Long Beach loss.

“Did you watch the game on TV?” Allen asks a reporter. The reporter says no. Which reminds Allen . . . “I want to get that tape,” he tells Steve Janisch, the Long Beach sports information director. “Will you get me a tape? I want that tape of Jack Snow. It isn’t often that a coach gets interviewed by one of his players.”

Allen scans his desktop. He forages for a letter clipped to a $20 check. The letter is from David Simcoe of Dallas, who calls himself a longtime Allen admirer. The check, Simcoe writes, is a donation “for the cause of building a new stadium at L.B. State.”

Allen the old Redskin grins.

“I didn’t expect to get a letter like that from Dallas,” he says.

Allen gets up and pulls a “Future Is Now” poster out of a box. “I sent him two of these.”

Allen returns to his desk. “That $20 check--what do you think we can buy with it?” he muses. “Just the labeling on one seat, maybe. ‘No. 4.’ But it’s a start. It’s more than we’ve had from Long Beach so far.

“We should send it to (our booster club). Maybe someone else will send a $40 check. And then maybe a $60 check.”

Allen excuses himself for a visit to the men’s room. “I’ve been drinking all this coffee.”

A few minutes later, he’s back, walking through the office door and straight for the blackboard. Without a word, he points a finger, hard, against an inscription on the board:

“I enjoy coaching.”--GHA 12-17-89

Allen returns to his seat, ready to resume the interview.

He talks about the expectations he had when, at age 71, he decided to accept the job at Long Beach.

“I didn’t know what to expect,” he says. “I was just hoping we wouldn’t lose all our games.”

Was that a real concern?

“After spring football it was. We only had three defensive linemen.”

He talks about leadership.

“The other day on our way to Fresno, we stopped to eat in Bakersfield, and I have a rule when we’re eating: no hats,” Allen says. “One of the players had a hat on, and Mark (Seay, Long Beach’s top receiver) just went like this, (tipping an imaginary cap) and the guy took his hat off.

“That’s leadership.”

He talks about having to phone a freshman player to reprimand him for missing the previous day’s practice.

“You can’t fine these guys,” Allen says. “(But) you get tired of having them do push-ups and sit-ups and grass drills. That’s not the answer.”

You can’t trade them, either.

Finally, Allen addresses the issue of economics.

Has interrupting the peace and tranquility of retirement for the low-budget madness at Long Beach been worth it?

“I’ll let you know at the end of the season,” he says.

Better vantage point then. With George Allen, hindsight is more than 20-20. These days, it’s more like his best friend.